Illya picked up the case, forcing himself not to open it just yet. The outside of it was dented heavily, but the seal seemed to be intact and the case was still closed tightly. He walked back to his camp, carefully setting it down in the sand, and entered the combination to unlock it.
"Click." It opened... the contents looked to be completely undamaged and dry.
At first his heart pounded with excitement. Research and Development said these cases were waterproof and apparently they had not been joking," he said aloud.
Reaching inside; he picked up a silver cigarette case and pulled it by the bottom to reveal the older style communicator, the predecessor to the streamlined pen.
Illya turned the dial slowly at first, hearing only static but when he found the right setting he spoke into the device.
"Open Channel D overseas relay...Emergency...Kuryakin here."
At first there was only static but then he heard the familiar voice...it was Dolores in communications.
"Illya... oh my God is it really you? They said you were dead!"
"The reports of my demise though understandable, are a bit premature.
I assure you I am alive and well," he finally smiled.
"Where are you Illya?"
"Good question...I am on a small atoll somewhere in the Pacific ocean, other than that, I have no clue."
He could hear the excitement rising in Dolores' voice as she spoke.
"Keep your communicator open, we'll get a fix on your location in a few minutes."
"Will do," he said, letting her know he was quite happy as well."Dolores,where is Napoleon?"
"He's in Hawaii. Mr. Waverly told him to take some time off, and a good thing...he was like a caged animal after he got the news about you. He wasn't sleeping at all. He wasn't satisfied with the Coast Guard ending their search for survivors, that's why he went to Hawaii; he's looking for you. He's been out in a company helicopter searching for you every day from what I hear."
"Dolores, please do me a favor and let him know I am all right and ask him to give the news to another of our agents...he will know who."
"Absolutely! Okay, we have a fix on your location. A rescue helicopter from Honolulu will be dispatched shortly."
"Thank you Dolores," he sighed in relief. "Can you patch me through to Mr. Waverly?
"Yes...one moment please" Dolores was all about being back to business now.
A moment later Illya heard the familiar voice. "Mr. Kuryakin! Delighted that you are still with us...what have you to report?
That was typical of the Old Man, thought the Russian, never wasting time in getting directly to the heart of the matter.
"The Hakudu Maru foundered after being hit by a rogue wave during a violent storm," Illya explained. "Being concerned about the explosives being picked up as salvage and destroyed the shipment, rigging it to explode as the ship sank...thereby rendering it un-salvageable sir. As far as I am aware, there were no survivors left on board. Baader is dead...I killed him myself."
"Well done Mr. Kuryakin, that was a most prudent decision on your part though you are incorrect in your assumptions as apparently you are the sole survivor...I will expect your full report in writing upon your return," Waverly out.
And that was that. Waverly was a man of few words. Illya found himself feeling badly about the crew though, with the exception of Goro, they had not been a bad lot. He took cold comfort that they died at the hands of mother nature and not at his.
Illya kept the communicator open, laying it on his thigh as he sat down in the sand, leaning back against a palm tree, happily waiting for the rescue chopper to arrive. His instincts told him Napoleon would be on it and he smiled knowing that his partner, as always had not given up on him.
He wished desperately to speak to Elliott, but knew better than to have a conversation that would obviously be of an extremely private and personal nature on an UNCLE communications channel. Some of the comm. specialists were not above eavesdropping. His and Elliott's relationship was the last thing he wanted people to know about. Illya also knew that he could rely on Napoleon to deliver a discreet message to her. He would call her via landline once he reached Honolulu.
The Russian leaned his head back, deciding to take a nap, assured now that his rescue would be within the hour but was called to attention when he heard the sound of a gun being cocked and human voice. this time not coming from the communicator.
"Well Kuryakin. managed to survive did you..sohn einer hure (son of a whore) " Aldous Baader swore in German.
"And I see you survived as well. How unlike me to have failed at killing you," Illya spoke dryly, as if Baader still being alive left him completely unfazed.
He rose slowly, to a crouched position; Baader was behind him and the Russian turned his head, following the man with his eyes as he walked around in front of him; all the while a gun was being aiming the gun at him.
"UNCLE is on the way here Baader. Why not just give it up?" .
"You do have balls Kuryakin, "Bader smiled."How about I just kill you for the fun of it...just a little a little payback for trying to kill me. Say your prayers Russian. Hh that's right," he laughed, " you don't pray, do you?"
Illya grabbed a fist full of sand, tossing it into Baader's eyes, and drove himself up into the man's midsection, grabbing his wrist.
The two of them wrestled for the possession of the gun. Illya pushed against the larger man, knocking him off balance and onto the sand and was on top of Baader as the gun went off in the struggle. The bullet hit the Russian in the shoulder. Passing out; his body rolled off the German onto the sand.
Baader now breathless, pulled himself up to his knees aiming the pistol at the unconscious UNCLE agent when suddenly, out of nowhere, the white dog appeared, grabbing his wrist.
He screamed as the animal bit down with it's powerful jaws snapping his bones, forcing the man to drop the weapon. The dog released the wrist and dove for the man's throat...Baader's gurgling screams faded as he struggled less and less, until he went silent.
The dog turned from the body of Aldous Baader toward Illya, jumping at the Russian...licking his face until Kuryakin woke with a fright; finding the dog on top of him. He tried pushing away with his heels, using his good arm to protect his face and neck.
Then stopped, realizing the animal was not trying to harm him. It pushed off his chest, laying down next to him, panting heavily; the white fur around it's mouth stained with the German's blood.
Illya looked the dog in the eyes...then feeling light- headed, he laid his head back down on the sand, passing out again.
When he awoke again, he was being carried on a stretcher toward a Huey helicopter and Napoleon Solo was beside him, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Illya tried to speak, but Napoleon was unable to hear his partner with the whirling of the blades and roaring of the engine. He signalled to Illya that it was no good.
Illya suddenly grabbed him by the jacket, pulling him down close to his face."DOG!" He yelled."NOT LEAVING WITHOUT IT..."
Napoleon pulled back, standing with a look of confusion in his eyes.
"WHAT DID HE SAY SIR?" Called one of the medics as he pushed the stretcher into the helicopter, securing it in place.
"HE SAID SOMETHING ABOUT A DOG AND REFUSING TO LEAVE WITHOUT IT," Solo yelled; not understanding this at all, since he knew Illya had a phobia about dogs.
"SIR..." the man called back."YOUR PARTNER IS WOUNDED. WE CAN'T WANT FOR ANY DOG!"
Solo shook his head no, telling the medics to treat the wound and gave the kill sign for the pilot to shut down...the medic pronounced Illya's gunshot wound was not grave, and administered first aid...it was a through and through, there was no bullet to be removed.
So humoring his stubborn partner, Napoleon and one of the crew members of the Huey went in search of this dog.
Twenty minutes later, the crewman returned with a fairly large white dog...looking like some sort of bull terrier, in tow on a length of rope. The man raised the dog for Kuryakin to see and the Russian lifted his oxygen mask and said "YES".
It was then the pilot started up the chopper. Kuryakin could hear the pilot speaking on the radio as the engine warmed up.
"What is your status 5359?"
"This is medi-vac 5359 preparing for take off...ETA Honolulu 50 minutes...I repeat ETA Honolulu 50 minutes."
"Copy that 5359"
Illya felt the helicopter rise into the air with Napoleon and the dog sitting beside him... he reached out scratching the dog's ear for a minute before he closed his eyes again. When Kuryakin finally woke in the medical wing of UNCLE's Honolulu office, he found his partner still beside him, this time sitting in a chair at his bedside, waiting for him to come to.
"Well hello there," Napoleon smiled. " Welcome back to the world of the living. How do you feel?"
Illya paused."Fine, considering I was dead I suppose...where is the dog?"
"Napoleon laughed " it has been bathed, de-flea'd, scented and fed and is currently enjoying the company of the ladies of the secretarial pool... Illya, I can't believe you made us go back for a dog?"
"I had my reason's," Kuryakin smiled weakly."Thank you Napoleon for not giving up on me."
"You'd do the same for me tovarisch. That's what friends are for," Solo smiled at him.
They heard someone clear their throat, and across the hospital room, Illya saw her grinning at him. "Hello Illuysha," Elliott McGowan smiled at him.
Napoleon rose from his chair, knowing this was his cue to exit.
"I'll leave you two kiddies alone," he smiled at Elliott.
"Thank you Napoleon," she said," giving him a little peck on the cheek as he walked past her.
Elliott walked over to Illya saying nothing, she leaned down kissing the Russian on the lips...a long and passionate kiss that he returned to her.
She finally stood up, whispering to him. "Ye and I...we need to talk."
Four days later Illya Kuryakin was released from medical, stitched up and his left arm in a sling. He walked down the hall with his right hand clasping Elliott's, holding her hand discreetly behind his back and his partner Napoleon walking along side the two of them.
Napoleon had picked up their tickets for the return flight to New York and they would be boarding within the hour.
"So what about the dog," asked Solo, still curious at his partner's change in attitude."What happened on that atoll?"
Illya answered the question only in part, choosing to be silent about what happened with the animal on the island."Oh he...Napoleon that is, will be staying here in Honolulu with the ladies of the secretarial pool, as sort of a mascot," the Russian replied matter of factly.
.
"Napoleon? You named the dog Napoleon?" Solo acted quite put out, scrunching face at his partner... realizing that Napoleon the dog was getting more attention from the ladies than he been while in Honolulu."Very funny, you smart ass Russian!"
"It was not meant to be funny," said Illya with all seriousness." The name is appropriate, as he showed up, like you my friend, just when I needed help..."
Napoleon nodded, getting his partner's drift." Hey does this mean you don't dislike dogs anymore?"
Illya didn't answer him, and gave Elliott's hand a squeeze as he winked at her with a wry smile.
The three walked out together from the building into the beautiful Hawaiian sun." Shame we have to go back," Napoleon said, looking up at the the cloudless sky.
"I think I have had enough of this part of the world" said Illya" I prefer a less warm climate."
"T'is true...too much sunshine for me as well!" Elliott laughed.
Solo looked at the pair like they had lost their minds...sun, sand, surf, bikini-clad women; who could complain about that?
The three agents arrived in New York, taking a cab directly to headquarters though they were a little jet-lagged. Everyone was excited to see the Russian back safe and sound.
Elliott managed to slip in without having been noticed she was with Solo and his partner.
Illya wrote out his report by hand, then after a brief meeting with Alexander Waverly he was sent home early in the evening; he would not have to report back to headquarters for a few days, and then for only light duty in his lab.
He disappeared from headquarters avoiding anymore of the well-wishers, making his way to Elliott McGowan's apartment.
His own place had been cleaned out; standard operating procedure upon the death of an agent. Napoleon had insisted that Illya's things be put into storage upstairs in his place. So it would take a day or so before all Kuryakin's belongings were back in place.
The Russian unlocked the door to Elliott's darkened apartment, and after resetting the alarm, he walked quietly into the bedroom, removed his clothes and slipped slipping under the covers, joining her there.
He whispered to her, the words that he used when always coming to her in be. "Annushka, lyubimaya moya (Annushka, beloved mine)"
Illya pulled her close to him, wrapping his arm around her as they silently embraced…
FINIS